The Cat That Got the Cream
by JoeBoBean
Summary: One day Lewis wakes up and decides that he is going to count the things he knows about his very private Sergeant, the last thing he expected was that after an early phone call that he would find out the most surprising secret of all.


_AN: This used to be on the lj community until I closed my lj account. This was a fun piece to write where I chose to give the unflappable Hathaway a secret soft side that was a lover of animals. That and Norwegian Forest cats are just awesome to look at. _

_EDIT: Having read it again I have reformatted the story and proofread it for the zillionth time. This time I'm hoping there will be few less obvious spelling errors. Robbie's reaction to Innocent is more to do with the fact that I wrote this after watching the pilot and the start of series 1 before writing it and she doesn't hold back in her mild dislike of Robbie and as much as people think Northern folk are tough; they take dislike to heart._

_Please enjoy xx._

* * *

Detective Inspector Robbie Lewis knew very little about his Sergeant and sometimes that worried him. He knew he could count the things he did know on his hands.

He used to smoke a lot, a habit that had been a hard one to break especially after the smoking ban; but somehow he had managed it finally and it made Robbie almost proud to see his drive. Sadly though recent stress seemed to have made him fall of the wagon, but as always Robbie wouldn't complain he didn't really mind the smell of smoke that much. That may have something to do with the fact that in the eighties and early ninety's the whole of the station was filled with a smog of swirling smoke. As for falling off the wagon Robbie wondered to himself if you even called it that when you started smoking again… or was it a relapse, but that sounded like something dire. Like it was some kind of disease his Sergeant may have and since thinking about the right word for the situation hurt he abruptly gave up the notion entirely.

He played the guitar. He loved his guitar.

He played world music… which he still wasn't entirely sold on, but none the less would; when asked give glowing praise of Jim's performance or the new tracks he was interested in.

He had never asked Robbie to call him Jim, but had never asked him to not to call him Jim either; so Robbie supposed he didn't mind the nick name.

He squirmed his way out of being questioned about his personal life.

He on occasion would eat Yorkie bars to try and prove a point about his sexuality Robbie could only presume. Not that Robbie questioned it any longer; mainly due to the squirming out of questions about his personal life that had been pointed out before. That and as Robbie had said earlier using his son as an example it just wouldn't matter.

He had always liked the Chief Superintendent even when she seemed to Robbie to hate Jim and him with a burning passion; Robbie had to admit the animosity was most likely aimed more at him than Jim, but they were a pair were they not? So by association Jim shared in some of her misdirected hate… lucky for him, but at least he belonged to the world of computers and mobile phones. Robbie was a man of land lines and notebooks.

Finally he had none of what his daughter would call "game" with the opposite sex and for a very handsome and intelligent young man, Robbie thought it was odd.

Oh and of course he was also a Cambridge graduate and had even been in the seminary.

There it was the list which consisted surprisingly of nine groups of things; none of them particularly personal or revealing. However Robbie had to admit, their relationship worked. Withholding personal details of himself had been a thing nurtured under Morse and he had never thought to remedy it. Especially not since the idea of self preservation had been further compounded by Val's death; he had yet to figure out where Jim's reserve came from. He had always thought trust issues, but maybe that was wrong.

* * *

Robbie was sat eating breakfast one morning when his phone rang, he cursed at it as if that would make the infernal thing stop ringing. When it didn't; he picked it up and almost growled into it through a mouthful of breakfast cereal.

"What?"

"Sir?" Jim's voice was timid and Robbie regretted his tone in an instant,

"Morning Hathaway what is it?"

"Would you mind giving me a lift in to work?" he asked still sounding unsure of himself, "I don't really want to have to call a squad car and mine is in the shop." Robbie felt his cheeks heat up from embarrassment; even if he was eating his breakfast it was no reason to take it out on Jim, he had done nothing wrong after all.

"If you don't mind me asking… whatever happened to it?" Robbie asked picking up his bowl and taking it to the sink.

"Oh it's nothing serious," Jim replied in an off handed manner, "It's just a service. I can pick it up after the end of shift today." Robbie turned the tap on, cradling his phone on his shoulder and sighed expectantly. When Jim said nothing more he asked,

"Would you like me to give you a lift to the garage after work as well then?" He heard the rasp of a lighter on the other end of the line, but there was no deep intake of breath suggesting that Jim hadn't lit the cigarette that must have been between his fingers.

"That would be great…" he said softly as Robbie heard a rustle of fabric and a long loud purr. "That's if it's not too much trouble Sir."

"Of course it's no trouble Jim, I'll be there in about twenty minutes is that okay?" He asked more out of politeness than anything else; it wasn't as if he could get to Jim's flat any faster.

"Thank you Sir, that will be fine; I'll leave the door open, you can just come straight in." _Okay_ Robbie thought, that was an odd way to put things but he didn't question it.

"I'll see you then Sergeant," he finished feeling that Jim shouldn't be the only one being overly formal and hung up the phone while grabbing his jacket to sling over his shoulder. Then he left his flat to walk out into another overcast Oxford day.

* * *

The Vauxhall pulled into the cul-de-sac twenty minutes later. Robbie hopped out of his car as he switched the engine off and ran across the pavement to Jim's flat; glancing only for a second at the Oxford sky seeing it was a dark grey laced with the threat of impending rain. He pushed open the door to the downstairs flat and just got passed the threshold before the first rain fell hard and fast on the black tarmac making it slick and shiny. He rolled his shoulders and sighed before he called out in to the gloom of the dimly lit flat,

"Hathaway?"

"In here Sir," was the muffled reply that came from the door on the left of the hallway about ten paces from where Robbie was standing on the _Welcome _mat.

On opening the door of the room on the left Robbie found his Sergeant on his sofa pinned down by what looked like a mass of straw coloured fluff; that Robbie admitted explained the muffled tone of voice.

"Err Jim?" he asked pointing at the straw coloured mass of fluff that spanned from Jim's chin to his naval, "What is that?" He meant no harm by the question he asked, but his rough accent made the question sound like an accusation and Jim's brow furrowed for a second his blue eyes turning a shade darker from hurt. In true Hathaway style Robbie noted he shook off the emotion and sat up from his horizontal position so the mass of fur collapsed into his lap with a self satisfied purr as if it had just won some sort of bet. Jim looked down on it lovingly; a little smile playing on his lips.

"This is Forseti," he said proudly "And HE is a Norwegian Forest cat." he finished stressing the pronoun; Robbie felt his eyebrows rise automatically at the lesson and watched as Jim raised his shoulders in appreciation that the information had been absorbed by the receiving party.

"The Norse God of justice, peace and truth?" Robbie asked rubbing his forehead trying to stop the pain that was beginning to brew behind his eyes already.

"Yes Sir," Jim replied sounding surprised,

"I did go to school Sergeant; Norse mythology isn't completely unknown to me," he said shortly and then rethinking his attitude he sighed rubbing his temples, "I mean I know that Loki could attack with a hammer and control thunder." At the fumble Jim's head snapped up from the cat and after he searched his superiors face he smiled a little crookedly making Robbie relax instantly. Robbie knew that Jim had picked up on his short temper about his education or lack there of and like a beaten school boy Jim's eyes had dropped to the floor. So as soon as the blue eyes of his Sergeant met his with the small quirk of his lips that followed at his overly contrived slip up, Robbie knew he was off the hook. "Do you think we have a time for a cuppa before we head in?" He asked still standing idly in the doorway, "It's only because I didn't really get a chance to finish mine earlier."

Jim nodded and got off the sofa in an instant and went towards his small kitchen switching the kettle on.

"Make yourself at home Sir," he said from over the kitchen island and Robbie sat down on the opposite end of the sofa from Forseti who seemed to be looking at Robbie with a distinct expression of disdain.

"I'm sorry that I interrupted your play time with James, but we have to get to work." he murmured to the cat and from the kitchen Jim asked,

"What was that Sir I missed it?" Robbie looked towards his Sergeant and smiled,

"Nothing much I was just talking to the cat."

"I wouldn't do that Sir, you'll spoil him."

"Just like someone else I know," Robbie replied and heard Jim scoff in the other room. At the sound of mirth coming from his owner Forseti visibly relaxed and moved across the sofa in one easy stride, which took Robbie off guard. Forseti looked up at Robbie his large almond shaped eyes filled with an intelligent spark that was so reminiscent of his owners even if the almond eyes that were staring at him were an olive green and not blue. Robbie raised his palm to Forseti and watched as the cat eyed him with what could only be described as suspicion. Both the cat and Robbie glanced up at the kitchen when the kettle whistled and then resumed staring at each other. After a few more minutes Forseti came forward with the slow glide of a predator and took in Robbie's scent before he shuffled closer and licked a coarse path up the centre of his palm. Robbie watched the cat closely worried that at any moment a paw would come at him and he would scream like a girl in front of Jim.

That thankfully didn't happen instead Forseti purred again and lay himself across Robbie's lap as if he hadn't just been testing him to see if he was in fact a good friend or colleague of his owner. Robbie sighed and scratched behind Forseti's ears and felt the vibration of the deep seated purr in his lap more than he heard it. When Jim came through the alcove from the kitchen and saw his superior officer he let out an unrestrained and out of character burst of mirth.

"You look right at home Sir," he said as he put the mug of tea down on the coffee table,

"He looks right at home more like." Robbie replied as Forseti rolled around on his lap so the bright white fur on his stomach showed as he eyed Robbie in a way that told Robbie he was always obeyed. It was much the same look that Jim gave him when he wanted to get out of whatever chore he had just been given, but on Jim; Robbie found he could resist it. With this cat though it was far more difficult and he found himself willingly scratching the stomach under the volumes of thick white hair and Forseti let out a deep growl of approval that made Jim smile.

"You are spoiling him Sir," he said the timbre of his voice almost matching that of Forseti's delighted growling.

"It would seem Jim that your cat is not the only one I'm spoiling." he replied as he leaned over the mass of muscle and fur for his cup and he saw Jim's cheeks momentarily flame red. "Why didn't you just ask me yesterday for a lift in to work?"

"Well I was going to get a taxi, before I realised the cost and I didn't want you to think that I couldn't exist on my own." Robbie felt himself chuckle.

"As if I didn't already know that one James," The quip of Jim's eyebrow Robbie knew signified a deep seated suspicion, but Robbie didn't comment on it. Instead he finished his tea and checked his watch. "We should get going; we don't want the boss to moan at us again."

"You mean you don't want the boss to moan at YOU again Sir."

"I have no idea as to what you could be referring to James." he replied as he managed to get Forseti off his lap so he could stand up. As he moved Forseti the sound that left the cat was one of disapproval and Jim watched his cat closely with a look of unrestrained pride.

"I told you Sir not to spoil Forseti, now he will want you to come around every morning." Robbie looked at his Sergeant at a loss for words, but it wasn't like that was anything new. "But next time I have car trouble don't worry I will call you first." he said with mischief colouring his angular features.

"Well that's fine Jim, because next week you'll have to pick me up as my cars in for its 2,000 mile service with it being my new one." he replied with a momentary grin. Jim's brow furrowed for a second and then he rubbed along the scar on his chin.

"Did you say yes because I would owe you Sir?" he asked his voice thick with sudden exhaustion.

"I wouldn't dream of it Jim," he replied softly as he leant down to scratch behind Forseti's ears one last time. "Shall we go?" he asked with a playful smile and Jim nodded resignedly knowing that on some level he had just been played by his Superior officer again even if this time it was the most subtle of plays.

"I just need to grab my jacket," he said as he walked back to the kitchen with the empty mugs.

"You might want to grab your coat it's raining cats and dogs out there."

"If only Sir, if only," Jim said so softly that Robbie barely caught it. Who would have known that his Sergeant that had trouble connecting with people other than him would have such a deep seated affection for animals? Maybe they understood him better and vice versa Robbie thought; because he could tell for all his intelligence Forseti was a simple creature and maybe in some way Jim was the same. Not that it really mattered as the possible simplicity of Jim was overshadowed by the blanket of discomfort he swathed himself in.

Robbie shook his head a soft smile on his face. One day he knew that he would be able to figure out his young Sergeant completely, but until then he would have to take it one day at a time.

* * *

As they walked out in to the heavy Oxford rain towards Robbie's car Detective Robbie Lewis realised he had forgotten at breakfast while he was counting off the things he knew about his Sergeant on his hands that he also knew that Detective Sergeant James Hathaway was a very complicated creature with seemingly bizarre habits. Added to that thought now was that he was a lover of cats and even had gone to the lengths of owning one even if Forseti was more akin to a small mountain lion.

So he decided from now on he was most definitely going to be counting off the things he knew about Jim on his fingers and his toes. Maybe sometime soon he thought that the toes would become redundant too.

The answer to that question though was as big a mystery to him as the man himself.


End file.
